#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Morning Brook
Today I am so grateful for focus, discipline. The day spent as I had hoped, without interruption. After my walk, in the quiet house. No swim today. Body and mind said, no. Charlie and I enjoyed the woods, although the trail we usually take is flooded. River so high. Thick with leaves and leaf matter and decay and fresh cold water, a blend of freeze and thaw. Revised poems, submitted poems and art all day and into evening. Felt progress on the manuscript. A deep dive. Moving into it, not resisting. Not giving up. Getting more deeply involved. Trusting. Hearing yes, rather than no. So quiet, with people away and nobody I need (want) to care for except me. Tonight, just after submitting some images to a journal I got an immediate reply: yes. They took them. That never happens. But, earlier in the day, a kind rejection of some. So, a balanced day. A dream this morning that I got to share with Frank over the phone while I walked. He featured, hanging wall paper. Kind of a disaster. We laughed and laughed. Agreed that I should have asked my mother to hang it instead, which I would do if she were reachable. My mother was very careful, very focused, very precise and she got it hung straight and right. And if she didn’t, she tore the gluey sheet of paper off and started over. She was proud of her work. And, oh! The year she papered the dining room in our farmhouse in Maine (where she didn’t want to be!) and on such an impossibly tight budget, too. To make this one room nice as she could in a house that was huge and rambling and ramshackle and complex. And the pipes burst late that fall. Burst in the dining room, and ruined her walls. Oh, that was a tough year for her. A very very very tough year. Bless all the walls that are hung with the mighty wishes of a mother who wants a home to be nice for her family.
And now, having written this, I realize that poems are my wallpaper.